


things change, just a bit

by macaroonie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Crushes, Friendship, Heal My Boy, M/M, Oblivious, Slow Burn, i'm love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-01-16 22:54:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12352236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/macaroonie/pseuds/macaroonie
Summary: In which Keith keeps coming to Hunk for help in understanding Lance, but ends up figuring out something else entirely.~wip~





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> slow burn heith, maybe klunk but i'll see how it goes. i love my boys a lot and i want emotional confrontation like nobody's business  
> inspired by the vlog obvs and the thought of who might see him crying afterwards and help him (or try to. These Idiots Am I Right)

After, well - after a lot of things, but - specifically after the vlog that Coran made him do, when Lance saw him crying - after that, things changed, just a bit.

He could feel that hot bad feeling in his eyes and knowing how easy it was to give in to it, brushing at his eyes, needing to leave, forgetting the video – fuck the video – Keith stood up, wobbly legs, and almost ran from the room.

Keith is aware he cries, semi-regularly, but it’s between him and his pillow.

Lots of things happen, ok? It’s much easier to pretend to be angry all the time than on the edge of tears.

 Shiro probably knows.

No-one else.

And especially not now he’s the Black Paladin and he has to be grown up, all that.

It’s always been one of the things he hates most about himself. He gets so angry _so fast_. Something stupid is done, like someone else is doing it, and the very next moment it all goes like a wave and he’s left with his eyes burning, feeling empty.

He has his head down. He has his hand holding the other, for comfort. He has his eyes filmed with tears that are very firmly going to stay where they should be, which is inside his goddamn eyes, thank you very much.

What he doesn’t have is a witness.

The cruel, cruel world supplies it, however, in the form of a certain someone whistling (actually, really, whistling! The audacity!) and sauntering along the corridor.

It couldn’t be anyone except who it is, which is lanky, annoying, ever-present, unignorable Lance.

You could call it bonding, what’s happened over the last couple of weeks. Lance came and asked him about the team. That was the first time he felt like a leader, giving advice, as bad as it was. (Even though Keith knows that he is 1) the worst person to come to for advice, ever, and 2) Lance is stupider than he thought to worry about being replaced. But hey. He’s nothing if not full of hidden depths.)

They’ve had a couple of conversations, hesitant, trying to be civil the whole way through when it isn’t a matter of life and death. Arguing is more fun and much easier, though. Getting into a shouting match about anime doesn’t have to mean that you hate each other, that if you get the answer wrong you’ll be kicked out – it can just mean you really love Full Metal Alchemist (and that you’re right, damn it.)

Surreptitious lessons watching the rest of the team attack each other for the smallest slip-up (it’s called “roasting?”) and a second later fall into bear hugs has let him in on the secret.

Lance turns the corner at the same time Keith does. They collide, and fall. Hard. It’s Keith’s fault. Any other day he would have heard the whistling and walked like a normal person, maybe even exchanging a tentative smile, chat.

But to cap off today they crash and it hurts.

There’s a horribly intimate moment where their faces are close enough that Keith can see the variegated blue of Lance’s wide eyes.

Then facts rush in quickly, like the fact he bit his lip or that shock has got his tears flowing again.

Whatever happened in the last couple of weeks reverses in an instant. It’s impossible that Lance – that anyone – can see him like this. The accidental body slam makes it feel like when they used to fight for real, months ago. Keith with every instinct he has curls convulsively away from Lance on the floor.

To cover his tracks, he says “Can you just watch where you’re going for once in your life!”

Keith doesn’t usually start the fights.

He sees Lance surprised and hurt, as he exaggeratedly holds his hands up for peace. The other side of the corridor is blurry, a world away. “Keith, Keithy-boy, what’s this about? You know I hate to disagree but, this time was like, totally your fault.”

Keith snuffles miserably and ducks his head into his elbow and tries to get up. This is as bad as it’s gonna get, and the worst thing is that Lance is right.

There’s a moment of silence where he can hear Lance trying to figure out what’s going on, and then it clicks. “Keith? Look at me, Keith. Are you alright?”

Secret’s up, but he still has his dignity, goddamnit.

“Yes. Apart from _you_ barging into me –“ His voice cracked. Fuck.

He hears a muttered “No fucking way,” a sigh, and then: “You’re not ok, are you ?”

There’s nothing to do but turn around and face it, it being Lance, and the miserable fact that he’s still crying through all of this, now frustrated on top of everything else.

Lance’s face does some complicated things when it meets his, settling on a small, real smile.

“Do you want a hug?”

The first response is deep shock, because he can’t _know_ what he wants.

After all this playing with him and his awful, consuming feelings, the need to be trusted and wanted even when he doesn't know how, after the – the _bonding moment_ , he can’t fucking turn now and pretend like he cares beyond all of this and offer a hug like it means something?

So he does what he does best.

“Lance. I don’t need your – pity. I can deal with this by myself. I’m not weak. Leave me alone, please. Actually – you know what - everyone thinks I’m different now because of the lion, because of Shiro – I can handle this! Just – just stop winding me up! You wanna help? That would help. You - ”

The sympathy drops and leaves Lance’s face hollow. It’s horrible to see. He regrets it, all of it, instantly. Things happen very fast and badly. Lance gets up like the floor is lava and hunches his shoulders. Keith merely closes his eyes and waits for what he deserves.

“I see how it is. Now you’re the black paladin you think you can do without us? We’re all here for you. You just have to see it! This isn’t a – whatever you’ve been in before, this isn’t it.”

Lance looks at him, level, icy, unmistakeably hurt.

“We’re almost a family, you doofus.”

He’s left in the corridor, feeling a whole amount of different things. Usually at this point he would storm off and try to hide his tears, but. But. The worst thing is (there are a lot of worst things here) is that he did want a hug. He wraps his arms around himself instead.

* * *

 

It’s definitely the only possible thing to do.

Yep. Yup. He’s thought it through.

(As much as he thinks anything though.)

Let’s leave that for another breakdown, shall we?

Working and walking on complete intuition, he stops outside a door that – at first glance – is exactly like all the other million doors in the castle. But this one has a note on yellow paper hanging on the doorknob saying, “Busy!!!”

Tense and on his tiptoes, he catches a voice singing, low, surprisingly in tune, loud enough to be heard through walls. His hands are on the opening button before he can think.

A rare moment of foresight overtakes him, and he decides to knock, to give some warning. That’s something people do, he’s heard. Also he knows that if anyone caught him singing he would truly and fully die of embarrassment, so Hunk deserves that courtesy.

Then he knocks again, a little louder.

Something goes thump and shouts “Quiznak!”

Can’t be helped. “It’s Keith!”

“Ouch. Ouch. Ignore me, hi, come in, what’s up, buddy?”

Buddy. It really is nice to know some less complicated people.

Hunk; he doesn’t really know him, though. Apart from the things that everyone knows, which is: incredible engineer, motion sickness, cooking, Lance-handler.

The last is what he’s here for, in this big neat oil smelling room filled with nothing he recognizes.

The solution to all (or some) of his woes, stops rubbing his head and swaps the frown for a polite smile. The body language symbolizes openness and friendliness.

He feels nervous suddenly.

“I, um, think I have a problem.”

A little nervous in return, Hunk says, “Depends what kind of problem but I’ll help if I can?”

“Well, it’s not a Voltron thing. But I still thought you might be able to help.”

Hunk looks into his eyes, waiting for him to be more specific, but that’s the end of his little script. To be honest, he didn’t think he would even get this far. Big eyebrows raise expectantly.

Whatever he sees in Keith’s face makes him sigh and bite his lip. To his surprise, Hunk lifts the goggles off completely and starts to clear up his things. Fastidiously he washes his hands in a tiny sink, takes off the apron, and gestures Keith to the big soft chair and the stool in the corner, humming all the while. He’s not sure what to make of it. Being treated like an honoured guest is alarming, especially when they’re not particularly close. Maybe the problem isn’t big enough for the effort that’s being put into it. What if Hunk thinks he’s an idiot? Shit, what if Hunk takes Lance’s side and everyone hates him forever?

Keith takes the stool. At least he can leave fast if it gets really bad. It’s a little uncomfortable. The silence, not the stool. That part is pretty good.

Hunk lowers himself down with a bit of grease still on his nose and waits for him to talk. This turns out to just be looking at him sideways for a while until Keith can feel himself sweating. Horrible. Like, he signed up for this but. Still terrible.

Finally, however, he coughs, presumably taking mercy and says “Like, do you mind if I ask what it is? Actually, I’m gonna guess - is it about Lance? He’s my best friend but he can definitely be a dick sometimes.”

Oh yeah. There’s a reason he’s here. “Well. I was actually. I was a bit of a dick. Also other things.” He doesn’t look like he’s about to freak and turn on him, so this is as good as a chance as he’s going to get. “He saw me cr–“ abort _abort_ “um, we had a fight – I started it - and I was rude.”

“Mm hm?”

“But it’s not just that. Every time I think we’re getting better one of us does something to mess it up, but when we do understand each other it’s really good, like, I like him a lot I just can’t be in the same room half the time? And I did insult him this time. Maybe I’ve gone too far?” He takes a deep breath and looks at his gloves, neat and twitchy on his knees. “I want to say sorry and I don’t know how!”

Keith can feel his own face pulled into a scowl, but when he looks over Hunk has got his hand over his mouth and his shoulders are shaking.

“Are you _laughing_ at me?”

“No. What? Dude.”

“Hunk.”

“Maybe a little. You have to admit it’s pretty funny.”

“It’s not funny _at all_. I’ve killed our friendship. You don’t know how bad it was. He was trying to help me and I basically told him to fuck off.”

Hunk does a soothing motion with his hands and visibly tries to regain his composure, still chuckling.

There’s another couple of beats of tension, and again Hunk breaks it, red faced. “Um. I don’t know how to put this but. You know he would die for you, right?”

What?

“What?”

“Ha, um, the reason why I was laughing was. Was because it’s like, incredible to think that you don’t know that? Like. He talks about you all the time.”

Yep, this is news.

“Look – you. You seem pretty shocked. I guess it must be difficult to see from the outside? But? Like, ever since the Garrison he’s been borderline obsessed. Not that I can’t see why. You’re pretty great. Off topic, but, ok, well, I’m trying to say that any time he’s been up in your space or too loud or whatever he’s just been wanting your attention. Uh, Keith, do you need a chair?”

A chair would be great. What the actual fuck?

“I’m just gonna keep on talking then because it looks like it’s taking you some time to process this and that’s cool, of course. If you want to make it right, whatever you’ve done, it would be good to tell him what you told me. That you don’t understand what you’re doing wrong. That you don’t actually hate him? That would make him feel better. Speak to me? You alright?”

It takes him a second to find his voice, but when he does it’s more to himself than to Hunk.

“How did I miss this?”

“No offense but you’re not the, ha, sharpest knife in the roll when it comes to interpersonal relations. Even though it was kinda blindingly obvious to everyone apart from you.”

“That’s fair.” Was he always that hoarse?

“Also, Lance swore me to silence, so please don’t tell him it was me.” He says, looking suddenly nervous again.

The sentence brings him back to the real world. “I can keep a secret, don't worry.”

It does feel like a lot to know, though. New things. The same people but different, the next time you look. These guys – his, f- friends – seeing his weaknesses and it’s just, _ok_ , something to know and accommodate for. Hunk waiting in his comfy chair, warm and knowing and faintly concerned, changing his world view with simple words. You really can’t do it alone.

“I – I guess I’m going to go now. To Lance.”

“You sure you’re good to go? Now? You seem shook up.”

“No, I’ll be good. I’m sorry if this is weird but I need to be moving right now so I’m going to, uh, leave. And, thanks Hunk,” he adds, feeling brave enough for it, “You’re a good friend.”

He laughs and scratches the back of his head, chuckling awkwardly. “Look, if there’s one thing I know, it’s Lance. Wait, actually, two things.” He looks uncertain for a moment. “I’m pretty good at hugs too, if you want one?”

If there’s one thing he’s learnt from today, it’s do _not_ turn down free hugs. Next heartbeat he’s enveloped in enormous arms, and face entirely pressed into an enormous chest. The arms squeeze in a way that was probably meant to be gentle. He can’t see anything, and it lights up his skin. It’s fantastic.

“Just breathe out, buddy. This the one time where I’m pretty sure that it’s going to be ok.”

So he does, chest falling. Hunk smells good. People smell good. It’s nice to be close to people. Screw that, it’s nice to be close to Hunk. The hug lasts for a while, and that’s very ok with Keith.

When Hunk lets go his eyes crinkle and he pats Keith again on the back, the warm big hand felt through his jacket. “Go get ‘em, you idiot.”

* * *

 

“Lance. Lance. It’s Keith.”

A pause.

“If you don’t want to, ah, talk now, I’ll be in the training room. If you want to come find me.”

The pause turns thoughtful. A lot of waiting outside of doors makes a guy real sensitive to the nuances.

“I’ve come to apologise, though.” Just as he is about to turn and run, the door slides open as silently and weirdly as ever. Keith almost falls inside and saves himself at the last minute, which is almost certainly what Lance intended.

“I knew you’d realise who was right eventually,” but it comes lackluster and muffled.

Lance’s room is barely blue lit from a lamp in the corner. The man himself is lying full length on the bed, long legs out, with his headphones slightly cocked. He frowns but it’s without bite. He looks about as tired as Keith feels. There are a couple of photos stuck to the wall, and the famous jacket slung over a chair. It throws him off again to be in someone else’s private space. That must be his family. Huge. Do they come that big?

“If you’re going to insult me again, get on with it. I’m used to being underappreciated for my genius by now.” It could be funny. But it’s not. The words are still directed at the ceiling. Quiet.

Because he’s – has he mentioned yet? – the Black Paladin, and therefore capable of lots of terrifying things, he only lets himself feel paralyzing fear for a second. Acknowledging fear is the key to conquering it. Shiro said that. Do not think about Shiro. Think about Lance.

Okay. Knowing the new things he knows makes the whole thing more fraught. It’s not just a stupid argument or a bruise he’s come to try and make better. It’s, potentially, a friendship. A reimagining. Every move he makes, he tries to make it while thinking _Lance doesn’t hate you._

Lance huffs once and turns to face him without leaving the bed.

“I’m sorry about bumping into you and being a dick. It’s hard for me to be open with people. I’ve been trying to look after myself. I think you were trying to tell me that I don’t have to do it alone. Thank you. Sorry.”

Lance holds up a regal hand. His eyebrows do something complicated on his forehead. “Let me just get this straight. You’re admitting that you’re wrong.”

Keith grimaces. “Yes. It has happened before, you know.”

“Nuh uh. Give this one moment to me. You’re saying that you shouldn’t have got all aggy just ‘cos we maybe bumped into each other?” It’s a leading question, asked with knowing in his eyes.

Keith takes a deep breath and lets himself be led. “And other things. I shouldn’t have said those other things. I’m not good when people see me cry. I need this team. It’s all I’ve got. I spoke to Hunk –“

The mention of his name throws Lance into an angry spasm that almost pushes him to fall off the bed. “That, that _fake friend_ , I told him those things in strict confidence, I might as well tell everyone his secret, since he apparently thinks privacy is a myth!”

Bypassing the “secret” altogether – even as it raises a flash of curiosity – how could Hunk ever have anything to hide? - he raises his voice and keeps pummelling through. This is familiar, even if the words aren’t. Feeling frustrated and _knowing_ deep down he’s right.

“What Hunk _told_ me was that you don’t hate me and since I definitely don’t hate you, if we could both get over our issues we could maybe be friends? That is what I’m trying to get at here, if you would just stop overreacting for _one sec_.”

It cuts Lance short, as quick as insulting him did, but his expression is so much better; shocked, but with a growing element of delight.

They make eye contact in the dark room. For the first time he can read him, and it’s good.

“Look. Uh. Keith.” Lance really  _is_ thrown. He clutches on to one of his many pillows and slips his eyes away. Then he hides his face behind his hands. Then he wriggles on the bed. In a much quieter voice, he says, “Give me a second here, but I would like that too, obviously. Just. You really didn’t know I didn’t hate you?”

The ridiculousness of the situation prompts him to try a joke. “I’m good with knives, not people. And I’ve never really had friends before, so.”

Lance’s face stays hidden for a beat longer behind his long fingers, and when he resurfaces, Goofy Lance has taken the helm. In a long easy motion he stands up and claps a hand on Keith’s shoulder. He’s forced to look up into the grin. The change of mood has him off guard, but it’s not bad. Running to catch up with Lance is nothing new.

“Just because we’re friends now doesn’t mean I’m going easy on you. Like, your mullet for example! I don’t care, I’m still making fun of that at every opportunity I get. ”

It’s OK. More things need to be said, but it’s OK.

Keith fakes a yawn and stands up too, fighting hard to keep a smirk off his face. “Well, I guess I better be heading back, if that’s all you’ve got for me. Might go train a bit, something easy like that.”

No-one hates him.

“Oh, you’re on!”

He might even have friends.

“Race you there!”

He might even have a family.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey i personally think keith needs to work through his shit - in fact, they all do - before anything else can happen. so bear with. Thanks for the nice response my dudes !

The video game that Hunk and Pidge set up is working, and flickering blue and red strange lights on all of their faces. The trio - the normal ones, the friends - are squashed on the sofa, elbowing each other, full of competition. He knows he should join them but the noises and the lights are really a - a lot, and he's not sure he understands the story line or how to play at all, and he doesn't like doing things he's not good at.  
But - it's nice to be with them all. Even if it involves a lot of wincing when they shout at a victory or a defeat. Mainly defeats. Mainly Lance shouting.

It's OK. He's perched on a chair - a floating one, of course, because it's space - that someone dragged from a dark zone of the castle, and trying to understand as hard as he could. To be honest, there just doesn't seem to be a point. But if they all like it then maybe it's something people like, and do. It's possible he could come here after everyone else is done and practise himself but - no, that's not the point, is it. Even he can see the point is playing it together.

In between losing, Lance is half-heartedly trying to start a fight.  
Let him rephrase that.  
He's trying to start a conversation, more probably, but due to some mysterious knots in both their personalities each half friendly jab sent his way comes out at light speed and terrifying.

So he sits in his corner and responds as he imagines a Normal person would.  
Every so often Hunk looks at him and smiles, encouragingly.

Lance turns around, one more time, and Keith is about to give him a glare because, seriously? They had this talk - about how they Don't Hate Each Other, No, Not Even A Bit, - like, yesterday. Keith is _really trying_ over here.  
But nothing sharp comes out of his mouth. Out comes a grin, half soft, half sad, with his eyes big and liquid and blue, and he says "Why don't you want to play Beast Fighter with us, Keith? You scared?"

The words are maybe not the best but warm, confused puppy look make up for it. Crystal clear, without knowing how he knows, he understands exactly what Lance is trying to say.  
Once again, he's thrown off.

In his head he knows this new thing, about how they're friends now. However he is trying to tell that to the rest of his body that responds to fighting talk with, well, actual fights.

In the hazy background, he sees Hunk smash his face into his palm. That means something is about to go wrong if he doesn't change it.  
Hunk has good instincts.

(And, despite anything else, it was a good talk, that they had.)

So - look how he's maturing! - instead of recoiling and saying another terrified thing he will regret, he sends the resigned look to Hunk, who grimaces in sympathy, then smiles wide and nervous and understanding behind, happy that something was changing. Keith suddenly thought of how much of this moaning Hunk would have had to deal with from the other end. It's in the interests of the team to make this work.

New Keith. New way of dealing with problems.  
What else could Lance have meant, in his weird way, if he doesn't mean to piss him off?

Bullet time.  
What's the one thing he'll never expect?  
Unbalance him back.

"I never really played video games when I was younger so I'm not good at them."

"Uh. What?"

"So that's why I think it's stupid." He crosses his arms. (Where is this coming from why does he keep saying these stupid things in front of these people - )

"Video games are not stupid!"

Clearly, Hunk says, "Lance. Shush. Just, listen."

They all woke up very very early, months ago, to watch the eight suns of Fracjjks rise at once. Hunk's face looks exactly like it did then.

Like in a movie, Lance's lanky body halts for one tension filled second. Spit take. That's what they call it.

And then the whole world goes into motion again, as he loosens and the cogs whirr and the huge blue eyes widen and take in the new information and he says -

"No problem! Why didn't you say earlier? I'll teach you, obviously. Budge, Pidge. If he's gonna learn, it's from me. He has to learn from the best!"

Pidge grumbles and doesn't move an inch so Lance just smiles and unfolds over her, ridiculous as always, and Keith is suddenly glad he keeps saying all these random, embarrassing things, because the space occupied a second ago is empty and Lance is directing the smile, big, happy, at him, and Pidge rolls her eyes but smirks too, and Hunk is laughing because Lance is trying to play upside down with his legs dangling from the top of the sofa and his head twisted around, and in a moment he has the sweaty controller in his hands and people he trusts wedged either side of him. OK.

Much, much later, as they're all leaving, Pidge says "Hey can I speak to you for a second?"  
He takes a quick left to right. Empty corridor. They haven't had much time to speak lately.  
Is it another thing about Voltron?  
Fuck, he hopes not.

"Yeah, what's up?"

She looks a little awkward for a second and scratches the back of her neck.

"Ok. So. Whatever you've got going on with Lance, we're here for you. Hunk and me. Well, I'm sure he's here for you, but I'm personally saying it right now. You don't have to sit on the weird floating chair when the sofa is huge and also really comfortable and also more comfortable with you on it. This metaphor has got out of my hands. Anyway."

"Uh. Thanks, Pidge."

"No problem. Lean down for a tick, will you?"

Her face becomes determined and she tenses.  
Before he can do anything ill-advised and, um, violent, she throws her arms around his neck and squeezes.  
She's a bird, he thinks, strong and light and smart.

The hug is completely different from Hunk's, lasting a split second, but still leaving him smiling.

As soon as she gets free she practically dashes to the other side of the corridor, grumbling and sporting what looks like a blush.

"Why are you being this nice to me."  
Maybe it should be a question.

"Well, Hunk said that you liked hugs, so."

"No, not just that -"

"I know what you mean, okay? It must be hard? That's why. You're our age and we can all see that Shiro practically pressganged you into being the leader, even when there are other people - cough, Allura? Freaking Lance? - who would be better at leading. So! You don't have to struggle when things are hard. That's it."

Feeling embarrassed, over whelmed, and pleased is a combination of emotions he is becoming more and more familiar with.  
Pidge and him exchange a look of mutual discomfort, but, importantly, she's not taking anything back.  
Apparently deciding that the conversation is over, she looks directly to the left of him and says, "Well. I'm going to go. That is entirely enough of that for today. Let me know if you need anything, um, non-feelings related."

His belly feels very strange, but light too, and his face hurts after training, hours later. He pulls his aching cheeks in the mirror in his bare room and realises, slowly, that he hasn't smiled that wide, that long, since he was a kid.


End file.
